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For the first time in 2 weeks, Sam wasn’t startled awake by a child knocking on their door. Instead, they gently awoke to the sound of rain on the roof of their cabin, thunder booming in the distance. It was a welcome change; Caleb and Lillian had been sure to come wake them up every evening to play, and Sam always ended up exhausted. The pair seemed to have boundless energy, and Sam was sure they’d stay out during the day as well if the ghosts weren’t all so sensitive to the light (a lesson Sam had learned the hard way). They were sweet though, including Sam in their games and being considerate of their ideas. They didn’t seem to mind at all that Sam was much older (physically) and that they’d only just met. Through the youngest two, they had been able to bond with the eldest a bit. Benny was friendly with them and ever polite, if quiet, but something told them that he just wasn’t much of a talker. The twins were a whole other story, and they seemed to be actively avoiding Sam, not speaking to them and hiding away when they approached. Lillian said the pair would warm up to them eventually, that they were shy and had trouble trusting people. They’d just have to be patient and let them get used to their presence.
Speaking of waiting, where were the kids? Certainly they weren’t deterred from their constant games by some simple rain? Though, if they thought about it, Sam could understand Lillian wanting to stay dry, as they were starting to notice a connection between water and her being upset. Her dress would become dripping wet out of nowhere whenever she was disappointed or otherwise distressed, then dry again when her mood shifted. Most of the ghosts had some sort of strange abilities—teleportation, floating, vision altering—so it wasn’t out of the question. Thus, it made sense that she may be staying inside. Caleb, however, would surely like to run around in the rain, digging in the mud and generally behaving like any chaotic young boy would in this sort of weather. However, they didn’t hear anyone outside. In fact, they couldn’t hear any noise at all other than the storm.
Their thoughts were interrupted by a flash of bright light through the window, followed by a startlingly loud clap of thunder. Sam would’ve thought nothing of it, but they could’ve sworn they heard a quieter, muffled sound immediately afterward, causing them to worry. Dragging themself off their bunk, they opened the cabin door, trying to find the sound again through the rain. They managed to pinpoint the quiet sound as coming from the siblings’ cabin, but they just couldn’t tell what it was. This, on top of the strange change in routine, birthed a bit of concern in Sam. They’d grown to like the Weaver kids, being stuck with them, and they wanted to make sure that nothing was going on. Alright, they thought, enough waiting around. I should go check on them. Zipping up their hoodie, they held their backpack over their head and hurried to the other cabin, trying to stay as dry as possible. Though tempted to burst in and get out of the rain, Sam was trying to teach the kids the art of knocking and didn’t want to intrude, so they instead rapped on the door and waited. The sound was louder now, clearer, but they could only really identify it when Benny opened the door, Lillian held in his arms. Sobbing. The room was filled with the sound of sobbing.
The youngest was soaked as if she’d been out in the rain herself, and she didn’t say a word as Benny ushered them inside. The only sounds to come from her were hiccuping cries, tears pouring from her coal-black eyes. Seeing the usually bright girl so down was unsettling, and Sam hated to see it, placing a hand on her back in what they hoped was a comforting manner. Moments later, their attention was drawn to one of the beds by a soft whine. Sam knelt down beside the bed, looking under and meeting eye-to-eye-socket with Caleb, who whined and stared back at them, seeming more upset than they’d ever seen him. He was surrounded by blankets, wrapped up under the bunk as though it were an animal’s den. Their little staring contest was broken with the next boom of thunder, which caused the boy to flinch violently, making the whole bunk rattle with the force. His reaction was overshadowed, however, by a loud sort of shriek from the far side of the cabin that startled Sam into nearly smacking their head on the bed frame and made Caleb whine louder. They’d worry about that in a moment; they’d take this one step at a time, and didn’t want to abandon the boy under the bed.
Judging by his reaction to the noise, they tried to be quiet and careful, not wanting to scare him more. They made gentle shushing noises, holding their hand out in a placating gesture, trying to show they meant no harm. It was almost like handling a scared, cornered animal, and they didn’t really expect it to work, but they had no other ideas in the moment. They were surprised, though, when he crawled forward and leaned into their hand, as if craving the touch. Taking the hint, Sam ruffled his dry hair, gently muttering comforts to the skeletal boy. It was familiar, they'd done similar things in the past when their younger cousins were afraid of storms. More thunder made Caleb nearly hit his head against the bottom of the bunk, but Sam was quick to hold him so he didn’t hurt himself. He seemed a bit grumpy about that, but didn’t protest, just giving them the look of “don’t do that again or I’ll bite you”. They’d learned it well and knew to heed its warning. After a few more minutes of comfort, he pulled back, snuggling down into his blanket nest. Though the thunder still scared him, Caleb seemed to have calmed to a point where he didn’t need or want their comfort, meaning they could move on to the source of the louder cries.
Hurrying around a row of bunks, Sam finds another blanket pile in the very back corner of the room. Wrapped up in the middle of it were two boys that they didn’t recognize immediately, but it was just because they’d never seen the pair like this. Tim and Tom were huddled up against the wall, the latter curled up against the former, who held onto him like a lifeline. Tom was shaking like a leaf and crying through gritted teeth, hands clamped over his ears, and Tim held his twin tightly, rocking them side to side as one would a much smaller child. They both had their eyes screwed shut tight, though it seemed Tim was just trying to hold in his own tears. None of this was what surprised Sam, though. What shocked them was the fact that they could see their expressions at all; their masks lay forgotten on the floor, the first time Sam had ever seen the twins without their signature accessories. Honestly, they weren’t very focused on this fact, though the long, dark scars that covered the boys’ faces did worry them. They were more worried about trying to comfort them.
They stepped towards the twins, which finally got their attention. Tim’s eyes flew open and he suddenly threw his body back against the wall, as if instinctively trying to get them away from Sam. His gaze was wild and far-away, almost looking through them as he pulled Tom closer, the other boy crying out at the sudden movement. Sam had seen that expression before, and it pained them to see it on someone so young. The look of someone being tormented by a memory, someone who wasn’t fully aware. They didn’t know exactly what the Weavers had been through (other than their deaths, which were still a mystery), but it was obviously painful and traumatic. For once they were thankful for their schoolwork; they’d taken three psychology classes as a career study that gave them an idea of how they might be able to help. They didn’t dare to get any closer, instead very slowly dropping to their knees, not wanting to tower over the boys. Tim simply muttered to himself, holding his brother as if he would disappear. In their quietest, gentlest voice, Sam tried to help reach him. “Tim? Tim, can you hear me?”
He stared back at them, eyes red and tears finally spilling over scarred cheeks. “Mama...we-we’re sorry, Mama, didn't mean to…”
Their heart broke, but they didn’t want to cry themselves and possibly make it worse, so they tried to hold it together. “No, it’s me, Sam. Do you remember me? Sam?”
It took him a bit to answer, scanning their face as if trying to remember. “...Sam? Where...where did Mama go? I heard the doors slamming, she’ll be here soon, we-we’ve gotta hide—”
Not wanting him to get himself more worked up, Sam gently shushed him before he could ramble himself into a spiral. “Breathe, Tim. She’s not here. Your mom isn’t here, she isn’t coming. What you heard was thunder. It’s raining.”
The explanation seemed to get through the haze of fear. He seemed to be coming back to awareness a bit, but he was still confused. “Rain? But it was-it was snowing, not raining, we’ve gotta go, Mama’s mad at us…”
They took a breath, trying to control their emotions. If they cried, they wouldn’t be able to help the twins. “I know what you saw was scary, but it’s not real. It’s not happening. It’s just you, me, and your siblings. We’re in one of the cabins at the old summer camp. You’re safe, ok? Everyone’s safe. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
It took another few minutes of reassurances to bring Tim back to reality, though he was still very upset. Yet another clap of thunder sounded, Tom shrieking at the sound and burying his face in his brother’s vest, and while Tim flinched hard, he didn’t fall back into the flashback, which was good. Sam shifted their focus to the other twin, with his broken body curled up in a little ball, and had a feeling talking to him wouldn’t work. Tom had barely said a full sentence in front of them since they’d met, and they doubted he’d even hear them. Instead, they spoke to Tim again. “Is he gonna be ok?”
He nodded, resting his head atop his brother’s, looking drained. “It’s too loud. Hurts.”
“The thunder?” He hummed an affirmative. “...does it hurt you too?” Again, he hummed.
“The light too. Too loud, too bright. It hurts, makes Tom cry. He likes when I hold him.”
Gears started turning in Sam’s head, and they had a feeling they understood. They hadn’t been expecting the twins to have sensory issues, but one doesn’t really ever expect that sort of thing. Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do about the thunder or lightning. “Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to leave you alone?”
“No!” They were all startled by his sudden outburst, Tom whining as Tim gave a sheepish apology for yelling. “No, please...please stay here.”
Though Sam was glad he was accepting their presence, it hurt to see the usually proud, stoic boy so desperate and afraid. He was probably worried about having another flashback and being left trapped in the memories again. “Ok, I’m not going anywhere. Can I come closer?”
He hesitated before allowing it, and Sam scooted to sit against the wall beside the twins, careful not to touch them. This was rendered null and void, however, when eventually Tim leaned over to lay against their side, sniffling. Sam, not quite sure what to do, decided to take a risk and gingerly laid an arm over Tim’s shoulders, pulling him into a sort of side hug. After a moment’s shock, he accepted it in earnest, setting Tom between them and weeping quietly into their shoulder. Before long Sam had pulled both crying boys into their arms, now unable to help the tears pricking in their own eyes. They were all so young, they didn’t deserve to experience this fear, especially not when caused by someone they should have been able to trust. The two hugged against their chest seemed so small for 12, so fragile. With the way they craved the simple affection, Sam could’ve mistaken them for younger children. Their instincts just said to hold them and provide gentle comfort, trying to be a grounding force for them.
Time passed around them. After a while, once the thunder had quieted to a mere drone in the distance and the twins had calmed a bit, the trio were joined by another weight on Sam’s side; Caleb, dragging blankets from his nest to lay against them and join the pile, curling up as he had been under the bed. Not long after that, the other two siblings made their way to the corner, Benny settling on their other side with the now relaxed, sleepy Lillian in his arms. The two eldest shared a look, and a sense of calm managed to fall over them despite the hectic, fear-filled night.
By the time the rain stopped, they’d all fallen back to sleep.